Someone, Please Die!
by Broken Stone
Summary: The CSIs have had three days without any crimes or anyone dying and boredom is starting to set in.


**Okay, this is just a one-shot silly piece. I got the idea from a fantastic BBC Radio 4 show called Rigour Mortis, about a group of totally crazy pathologists. It's not entirely accurate, but hey, I was just having some fun!**

**Plot Summary: There have been no deaths and no crimes. The CSIs are all inventing stupid ways to entertain themselves in the lab.**

**Acknowledgement: Thanks to DdraigCoch for the line about 'losers clean up!'**

**  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. I wish I did, but I don't. Please don't sue me.**

**Someone Please Die!**

'Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored, bored,' Greg sang at the top of his voice.

Sara stopped reading and gave him an evil look over the top of her book.

Greg ignored the warning look and continued to sing, 'Bored,bored, bored, bored, bored, bored - Ow!'

The book bounced off of his head and knocked over his cup of coffee.

'Hey!' he yelled, clutching his head with one hand and trying to stem the flow of runaway, hot coffee across the game of noughts and crosses they had been playing earlier. Unfortunately, he had forgotten how hot the coffee had been and yelled, 'Ow, coffee! Ow coffee!' and waved his hands in the air, spraying coffee everywhere.

Sara watched him with bemusement. 'Sometimes, you amaze me,' she said in tones of absolute astonishment.

He stopped and glared at her. 'That was not funny.'

'On the contrary,' she said, picking up the newspaper that had somehow avoided the flood of coffee. 'It was highly amusing.'

Anything that Greg might have said was lost as a yell echoed along the corridor and Nick zoomed past the room on a skateboard.

Sara and Greg looked at each other.

There was a howl of, 'Geronimooooooo,' and a muffled crash.

'First aid kit at the ready?' Greg said questioningly.

'Let them sort it out,' Sara said, as Warrick ran past, yelling with laughter.

* * *

Grissom fetched himself a cup of coffee and wandered back down the corridor, reading his science magazine as he did so. He walked into the door of his office and stopped, frowning. He took a step back and looked around. 

There were several strips of crime scene tape carefully stuck across the doorway. He looked down. On the floor was the chalked outline of a sprawled body, and the artist had added a hat, a pipe, a bunch of flowers in the hand and a big happy smile on the face.

Grissom regarded the scene and shook his head and ducked under the tape. Once again, someone had got one of the dummies and put clothes on it and sat it in his chair, holding a sign reading, 'Hello Grissom!' in bright colours.

He set his cup of coffee down and said, 'Please, someone just die. Before we all go crazy. Just one case. Before we start murdering each other for something to do.'

* * *

'Right,' Hodges said. 'This is how we play this. You have to take pieces out and place them on top without knocking the entire stack over. It's a game the requires great skill and concentration.' 

Greg regarded him silently for a moment and then said, 'I know how to play Jenga, Hodges.'

'Not with files, Greg,' Hodges warned. 'You want the first move or shall I?'

'You go,' Greg said.

Hodges rolled up his sleeves and examined the Jenga stack that he and Greg had spent an hour building from case files in their cardboard folders. It almost reached the ceiling. Carefully, he selected one and pulled it free, swiftly placing it on top of the pile.

He grinned at Greg and said, 'Your go.'

'Watch the master at work,' Greg said dramatically.

* * *

'Remind me what the point of this is again,' Catherine said. 

Grissom looked up. 'I like my office to be organised, Catherine. An organised office means an organised mind.'

'Not sure this can be classified as organising,' Catherine said. 'I think it's more wasting time.'

Grissom shrugged. 'I'm putting all my specimen jars in alphabetical order.'

'Grissom,' Catherine said. 'Nick and Warrick are having a skate-boarding contest down the corridors, Sara is hiding under the desk, Greg and Hodges are playing Jenga with the paperwork – '

'Who did that wonderful piece of artwork in front of my office?' Grissom asked, not looking up from the menagerie of jars on his desk.

Catherine looked shifty. 'No idea,' she said and added hurriedly, 'Grissom, there must be something to do – we've been three days without any cases at all. What is this? A National Criminal Strike? What do they want, better pay, more holidays and a pension?'

'Do your paperwork, sort out your office,' he suggested. 'Like me.'

'I spent one day doing that. My office is smaller than yours. Less office, less to organise. Plus, thanks to the fact that you never did any paperwork, I always do mine when I get it. So, I had almost none to do.'

Grissom looked puzzled. 'Why? Doing paperwork takes up valuable times that could be used in the pursuit of science and solving crimes.'

'It's possible to combine the two,' Catherine said.

'Uh-huh.' Grissom carried on arranging the jars in alphabetical order.

'You know, maybe you should arrange them in height order,' she said irritably.

He considered this and then said brightly, 'That's a good idea!'

She shook her head and walked out.

* * *

'No more skate-boarding for you, then?' Catherine said, smiling. 

Nick scowled at her. There was a plaster pasted across the bridge of his nose.

'So,' she said quickly, turning to Warrick, 'how do we play this?'

'It's a very simply game,' Warrick assured her. 'It's a game of Trivial Pursuits, but instead of general knowledge, we're going to be answering questions on past cases.'

'Past cases?' Sara said.

'Yes. Cases we've worked, right? The categories are: Crime Scenes, Victims, Autopsy, Evidence, Perpetrators, Witnesses, and General. Right?'

'You made up all these questions?' Catherine said, examining the hastily made cards and board.

'Yeah,' Nick said. 'We've spent ages on these.'

'All right, so we answer the questions. And move around the board?'

'Yeah,' Warrick said. 'The colour of the square you land on determines what kind of question you get.'

'All right,' Catherine said. 'Let's play.'

'You want to go first?' Warrick said.

'Sure,' she said, taking the dice.

* * *

'I can't believe you've got me to do this,' Sara complained. When Grissom had found her, she had indeed been hiding from the general insanity of her fellow CSIs underneath a table with a book. He had persuaded her to come out. 

'Everyone should learn to play chess, Sara,' Grissom said patiently.

'Yes, but maybe not with the lab glassware.'

He ignored this and said, 'Now listen. The petrie dishes are pawns. The conical flasks are bishops. The distillation tubes are knights. The gas jars are the Queen, the beakers are the rooks and these lovely storage jars are the Kings. Okay?'

'Okay,' she said, 'and you've explained to me twenty times how they all move, so are we going to play?'

'Yes.' He viewed the chessboard they had pasted out across the floor, made from squares of black and white paper stuck down. The 'chess pieces' were set out accordingly. The white pieces were empty, except for the King, which was filled with hydrochloric acid. The black pieces had squares of black paper stuck on the outside, except for the King, which was a brown glass jar storing lithium.

* * *

Conrad Ecklie walked through the lab, getting increasingly worried. He peered into one room, where he could see Grissom and Sara playing chess with the lab's glassware. From what he could see, Sara was beating Grissom. Her Queen appeared to be chasing his King around the board. 

He shook his head and walked past. In the next room, Catherine, Nick and Warrick were involved in some kind of card game that had resulted in raised voices, waving arms and lots of recriminations.

'Well,' he said under his breath, 'at least no one's doing anything destructive.'

A wave of papers streamed out of the next room and sloshed part of the way down the corridor.

Ecklie stopped and examined the carnage.

'Losers clean up!' Hodges's voices hollered. 'Happy cleaning, Sanders!' He bolted out of the door and crashed straight into Ecklie. For a second he looked shocked, the guilty, and then raced away.

Ecklie considered for a moment and then walked away up the corridor. He cleared his throat and yelled at the top of his voice, 'New case come in! Homicide!' He hurled the file into the air and legged it.

There were a series of crashes and yells and most of the CSI Graveyard Shift team came hurtling along the corridor.

'It's mine!' Catherine yelled.

Sara elbowed her savagely out of the way and hollered, 'Not if I get it first!'

Catherine yanked a handful of Sara's hair, trying to bring her down.

Nick rugby tackled Warrick and the two of them landed on the floor. Greg took a flying leap over both of them and crashed straight into Sara and Catherine. He tried to get up and was crushed by Nick who was holding onto the back of Warrick's coat, trying to stop him from getting up.

Grissom walked past them all and calmly picked the file up from the floor and flipped it open. 'It's mine,' he said smugly. 'Decide amongst yourselves who's going to be working with me on this one.'

Whistling softly, he walked away, leaving the others lying in a pile on the floor.


End file.
